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Long after the sun dipped under the horizon and several strong drinks in, Ingrid reached the realization that this was the most beautiful her partners had ever looked. It was less about how they were dressed—although she was glad that their outfits would be immortalized forever in the photography—and more about the aura they radiated as they looked at one another.
The music played kindly in her ears as she swayed on the dancefloor with Mercedes, hands strong on her waist and feeling handsome with the alluring woman hanging on her. While she was wearing a powder blue dress that not only brought out her eyes, but clung to her body and accentuated her curves, Ingrid had donned a suit. It was her first time wearing the clothing after being held back by years of frilly dresses that never seemed right on her body. When Dorothea had suggested it while she glumly looked at dresses, Ingrid recoiled and said no. Then she remembered that she was no longer part of the Galatea family and that her lovers wouldn’t mind if she didn’t have a skirt that kissed her ankles and asked Dorothea to take her to the nearest Men’s Warehouse as her face flushed with the shame. Instead they went to a queer seamstress that Edelgard had visited for years to tailor the suit and as Ingrid stood on the platform facing herself in the mirror as the woman carefully pinned the fabric, she felt more like herself than she had in her twenty five years.
Now, Mercedes adjusted her collar pins: two golden wings that made her feel like she could fly.
“I don’t mean to steal you away from Annette,” Ingrid said, although she appreciated the company for the lull in the party. She spotted her dance partner’s girlfriend hypnotized by the tall cake that stood at the end of the reception hall, two happy brides adorning the top. Annette was joined by another woman—Lysithea—as they discussed the plan to try as many of the sweets as they could manage throughout the night. “I’m sure you didn’t want to spend the evening with your ex.”
“I always look forward to evenings with my Ingrid,” Mercedes assured. The woman had been one of Ingrid’s first girlfriends; the one who introduced her to polyamory and made her forget about the rigid rules of the world around her while they were together. It never worked out between them, but the breakup was neither of their faults. Ingrid had been fighting with half of her family at the time and Mercedes was busy with med school. There just never seemed to be enough time or energy for Ingrid to explore the new world that Mercedes had opened up to her. “Besides, the brides are busy. I know you must miss them.”
“It’s been interesting trying to balance wanting to share the moment and letting them enjoy it by themselves,” Ingrid admitted, the drinks alleviating her fears of someone pointing at her and scolding her for the small bits of jealousy that had wound around her heart. The lights were beginning to illuminate the room, signaling that some sort of speech or activity was to come. Ingrid had already given her speech to Petra and Dorothea. She had been allowed to speak right after Petra’s grandfather, who stood strong and tall in front of the room despite his small stature and beamed as he addressed his beautiful granddaughter on her wedding day. He then presented her a strand of beads to wear with her traditional wedding wears, placing a matching set around Dorothea’s neck. In Brigid, it was tradition for the family of the groom and the bride to make two sets of beads with interchanging colors from both of their tribes. Even though Dorothea didn’t have a family to call her own, he had still crafted a matching set for both the brides: the oranges and greens, he explained, were arranged in patterns that encouraged happiness, loyalty, longevity, and fertility.
It was difficult to follow up such a lovely, personal moment. Ingrid felt like her own speech only paled in comparison to the familial moment, like she didn’t have a right to talk about her own relationship with the two women. Even so, Petra’s grandfather had clasped her hand and thanked her for taking care of his granddaughter as well. The small gesture had been nearly enough to dispel the butterflies as she faced the bridal party’s table and read from her paper that was a bit crumbled from gripping it too tightly.
Edelgard had helped her with the speech and it sounded much more elegant than anything else she had put on paper. Ingrid had started seeing her partners during their engagement, but they had made it clear that they saw her as an integral part of their relationship. Petra and Dorothea had even suggested postponing their wedding until Ingrid wanted to also wed, but she had disagreed. Even though she was ready now , considering the last seven months had been the most in love she had ever been, she didn’t mind that they were married. She was glad to even partake in the celebrations.
“Will all non-married guests please come to the ballroom for the bouquet toss!” the DJ announced, motioning towards Dorothea and Petra. They were both standing at the front of the ballroom, Dorothea with her bouquet in hand as she mimed throwing it for her new wife. Petra was laughing, doing her best to cover it with her mouth as guests began to swarm the area.
"Let's go!" Mercedes urged, unwrapping herself from Ingrid as the last moments of the slow song drifted away. "You need to get your hands on that bouquet!"
"I don't know..." Ingrid trailed off, looking at the brides as they joked around with one another. "Doesn't that seem… wrong? Like I'm waiting for a proposal or something?"
"Nonsense," Mercedes scolded, holding her hand and dragging her towards the crowd. The woman was smirking to herself and giggling. Ingrid was nervous. She didn't want to give her lovers the wrong impression: it seemed like she wanted to make the moment about her instead of just watching them on their big day.
Petra wore traditional wedding wears of Brigid: fabrics that draped over her shoulders in gorgeous and vibrant colors. When they were planning, they didn't really know how much of the Brigid culture they wanted to incorporate and had asked Petra's grandfather for guidance—considering that nothing that they were doing could be considered "traditional" in any sense of the word. He had given them the go-ahead, wanting to see his granddaughter in the garb. Even though Petra usually wore her hair in braids, for the ceremony her hair was braided in an even more intricate style that was specific to weddings.
Dorothea's dress was a mermaid gown with a beautiful bow that wrapped around her waist and tied in the back. The beaded bracelets and necklaces matched Petra’s; a small bit of her wife’s culture. Although her hair had been twisted into an updo, Petra had incorporated some of the braids into Dorothea’s hair as well. Even though Ingrid was towards the back of the crowd, she could see the new golden rings that adorned each of their fingers whenever they caught the light.
Ingrid was lucky: she knew it well. Just being able to look up at the two women as they were surrounded by such happiness. She was surprised that it wasn't jealousy that overcame her in the moment, but a desire to continue being able to watch the warmth. It was in the careful way that Dorothea put her hand on Petra's wrist, her fingers wandering along the skin like it was home. It was in the way that Petra looked at her, how she took small steps to be closer to her wife as their friends and families looked on. There were billions of people in the world that Ingrid could have found a home in and she had found Dorothea and Petra... it was as if the universe allowed for miracles for even the most normal of people.
Ingrid was blessed.
"C'mon, you have to get closer." Ingrid was surprised when another voice spoke from behind her, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her to the front of the crowd. It was Edelgard, wearing a simple black suit and hair twisted upwards into two buns. "How are they supposed to see you from back here?"
Ingrid looked to Mercedes for help, but she too just continued to tug her along until she was stationed at the front of the crowd of people who were hoping to one day marry their love (or loves).
"I thought you had a wife?" Ingrid asked Edelgard, spotting Byleth watching from her seat at the dining table. "What are you doing in the bouquet toss?"
"What if I want more than one wife?" Edelgard challenged, and it wasn't like Ingrid could argue. She wondered if one day she would have more than one wife or if she would just settle for titles like partner or girlfriend. Regardless, claiming to be a wife to more than one person was nothing more than a formality and would hold no favor under law, but she wondered if one day she would be a groom.
“Okay, okay, settle down!” Dorothea’s voice came over the speakers once she was passed the microphone. She stood at ease with it in one hand, the bouquet of roses from the ceremony in the other. Ingrid questioned why they were doing such a toss when it was rooted in so many of the gender roles and concepts of relationships that Dorothea hated, but she supposed it could be fun. Petra laughed, the sweet sound catching on the microphone. “ So , I’m going to turn around and throw this into this crowd of wonderful hopefuls. Whoever catches it—also, this is life or death, please do fight over it so I’ll have something to put on Youtube—has a wedding in their future.”
The crowd laughed at her joke as Petra grabbed the microphone. “You are having my luck!” She caught Ingrid’s eye and smiled wide at her. Ingrid blushed as they held the contact, only breaking when Dorothea dramatically spun on her heels and took Petra’s hand. They were both beaming and laughing and Ingrid felt it mirrored in her heart.
Dorothea teased throwing it a couple of times, lowering the flowers and then dramatically pretending to fling them behind her without letting go. Ingrid could imagine them soaring through the air, offering a newfound freedom for the soul who caught them. They would lose some of the petals as they sailed, perhaps a whole flower. Ingrid wondered if just catching one would be enough for fate to favor her. Perhaps if she reached to the sky and plucked the florals from the air all of her wildest dreams would come true.
Dorothea never threw the bouquet.
For a moment, Ingrid thought that she must have missed it and that it had sailed over her head and plunged into the sea of people. She must have drunk more than she thought for the blur of red to fly so easily through her line of sight.
Dorothea turned around and the bouquet was still clasped firmly in her fist. She took Petra’s hand and they walked towards the people awaiting the toss instead of throwing it. Ingrid turned to comment to Mercedes or Edelgard, but both of the women had seemed to disappear. By the time she spotted them back by Byleth and craning their necks to look at the scene, Ingrid’s partners stopped in front of… her?
“The bouquet is belonging to you,” Petra said, her eyes shining as Ingrid stood frozen in front of the crowd. They had gone through the motions of the wedding reception during the rehearsal, but this had never been part of it unless Sylvain had pulled her attention away for longer than she had believed. “My heart, we love you. You are having a big impact on mine and Dorothea’s lives.”
“Erm, thank you,” Ingrid said honestly, a bit of the attention getting to her in the form of a blush slowly working its way up from her collar. “I love you.”
She instinctively laced her fingers together in front of her as Dorothea beamed and kissed her cheek. “Love, my Ingrid. This bouquet is for you. May there be a wedding in your future.”
Ingrid puzzled over the statement, hoping this wasn’t them trying to ship her off with some other spouse (although, given the right circumstances, it would be a favorable option nonetheless). She was about to ask Dorothea if she was the one who was supposed to throw it when Dorothea placed the bouquet of roses in her hands, sticking close to her in careful watch.
The crowd was gasping and letting out a chorus of “awhs” and Ingrid worried that she had forgotten something terribly important since she wasn’t reacting the same way. Sure, the gesture itself of receiving flowers was sweet, but she wasn’t quite understanding—
She felt an object attached to the stems of the flowers, where they were tied together with a purple ribbon. Ingrid lifted it, finding a small velvet box attached to the arrangement. A glance to Petra revealed no explanation for the container, so she opened it as all the eyes in her room were on her.
It was a ring.
Carefully tucked in the jewelry box, the ring was a silver band with gemstones set within it. She had remembered telling Petra that she found the traditional engagement rings too feminine for her liking, and—
Wait.
Ingrid gasped when she realized the set up… what the ring now cradled in her palms meant for her future. She looked up to her partners who were both beaming, Dorothea laughing at her.
“Darling,” Dorothea said, “Will you marry us?”
“You are having importance to us,” Petra added. “It will be an honor to be spending our lives with you.”
With the bouquet and ring secure in her hand, Ingrid could only throw her arms around the brides. Finally, the word she wanted to say came with minimal tears:
“ Yes! ”